


Some People wish they Could Live Forever

by ItalianPotatoMoustache



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Demon Ciel Phantomhive, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItalianPotatoMoustache/pseuds/ItalianPotatoMoustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people wish they could live forever, to be able to live with no worries of falling ill or dying, but when they do get their wish they wish they could do nothing but die. Watching the ones you love die is pure torture, for you're stcuk there unable to do anything until you're all by yourself in this world. Is it really worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some People wish they Could Live Forever

Some people wish they could live forever, to be able to live with no worries of falling ill or dying, but when they do get their wish they wish they could do nothing but die. The loneliness can tear souls apart, if having to watch loved ones die in front of you doesn’t do it first. This was the cruel reality one demon had to live with for the rest of his life. Once a mortal, just a young boy who had everything he loved ripped from his grasp, now a demon after having his soul ripped from his very being against his will and now forever filled with hatred like he always had been since the one fateful night his bonds with demons started.

He remembered being happy once, but it was just a faint glimpse in the back of his mind he no longer had access too. Years of causing pain and sorrow have finally caught up to him as he glanced at an old black and white picture from long ago. Chipped glass from the frame drew blood as he ran his fingers over it, remembering what almost was. 

Although it was taken over one hundred years ago, the memory was forever etched into his mind as if it happened just yesterday.

_“Oh really Ciel? A photograph? What for?” The blonde bounced happily in her seat as the carriage rode forward to its destination._

_“Just for memories Elizabeth, paintings aren’t always enough.” the navy haired boy replied, a light smile played on his face._

He never even noticed the tears that fell onto the frame in fat droplets, seeping through the thin cracks in the glass and into the picture. It was the two of them, standing side by side. Elizabeth was smiling broadly, happier than can be, and Ciel stood by her side, small smile spread on his face, but it wasn’t even close to being able to mask the sadness his eye showed. 

He had so much within his grasp, a great future ahead of him, a loving fiancée, a happy life, and he threw it all away. Threw it all out the window along with his soul, all because of that damned month. It had ruined everything, and now there was no going back. Even if he was able to return to his old manor, it would make no difference. They were gone, they were all gone. They had fled the manor, just simply abandoning it, over one-hundred years ago. They’re all simply bodies within the ground now.

_She stood before the tombstone, dressed in all black with a veil covering her face. Within her hands she held a bouquet of white roses, stems trimmed and petals freshly bloomed. They shook terribly in her hands as she sobbed, asking why it had to be like this. “It’s not fair, we never even got to have a proper goodbye.. you just left, and after months of worrying I’m being sent a letter saying you’re gone. We never got to truly be together, it’s not fair Ciel.” she whispered, resting the roses down and stepping away from the grave, unbeknownst to her, the very being she was wishing for had been there the whole time, just out of sight._

_He approached the graveyard silently, standing before the final three entrees. Before him stood the graves of both his mother and father, between them lies his own._

_‘Ciel Phantomhive,_  
Beloved son and fiance,  
Gone too soon.  
December 14, 1875-August 26, 1889’ 

_He looked bitterly down to the rose, contemplating whether or not he should pick it up, instead deciding to stamp on, smothering it to bits and forcing them into the soil. “I don’t deserve to be mourned.” He whispered coldly, emotionless eyes glancing in the distance his now ‘widowed’ fiancée had gone. “It was for the better.”_

He had messed up. It was true, he reminded himself every night that it was so. He had messed up so badly, he could’ve just ended everything during that month had he not summoned the demon. He thought that by doing so he’d make it all better, but he was so wrong. In the end he only ended up digging his grave so deep that he dug straight into hell, morphing into one of those beasts. And it was all for nothing as well. They never did find the culprits, for Sebastian had seemingly just given up, no longer truly obeying his orders and instead just abandoning the contract all together soon after. He was alone now, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was truly upset by this. Not even he was strong enough to keep up his emotionless mask without someone by his side to help, _it was just too damn hard._ He wanted them all back, he wanted to correct his mistakes, to apologize, but he couldn’t and the thought of it was all that was needed to smash down all his dams, to let free the flood of emotions he had sworn to hold back since that month.

He had given up so much, watched so many die along the way, and he blamed it all on that month. But was it truly the fault of that cult? For they were the ones that took so much away from him and caused all this, right? Had he not sold his soul he wouldn’t be in this mess, but if he hadn’t, he would be dead. Being dead is what he wanted right now though, to be freed from this eternal hell. So who’s fault was it? Had he died, he wouldn’t be suffering this badly and Elizabeth wouldn’t have been widowed _twice,_ but if he hadn’t made the contract, then that damn cult would have had more members to kidnap and kill children with, and the world would have more sadists filling the world. 

_Ha, ironic how you’re calling them sadists, weren’t you the one who enjoyed watching their blood spill with sick amusement as they screamed? Weren’t you the one who stepped on their bones and enjoyed the crack? Weren’t you-_ “SHUT UP” his screams echoed throughout the empty room he sat in, reflecting his inner turmoil back at him. The silence settled back in a thick blanket, almost suffocating him as he sat against the wall with tear stained cheeks and sorrow etching deep into his face. This was regret, remorse, guilt. This was hell. His mask began to crack, the chips falling to the floors as the dam that is his emotions was set free, flooding through in a thick sob that came from his throat. He was suffering, truly suffering. No, it was not physical torture, but mental. Where are you supposed to go when you’re being tortured in your mind? It was tearing apart his very being, ripping every last shred of pride he had left out from his grasp and tossing it away. The streams of tears burned against his red cheeks, he had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. No matter what he did the despair would find him and there was no one there to help. He was trapped, he was filled with anguish. 

But worst of all,

 

He was _alone._


End file.
